


Furever

by Numbers



Category: Homestuck
Genre: F/M, Sadstuck
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-12-15
Updated: 2011-12-15
Packaged: 2017-10-27 08:47:14
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 743
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/293893
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Numbers/pseuds/Numbers
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sometimes life is very long. A short fanfiction following Equius and Nepeta's relationship if SGRUB had never occured.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Furever

**Author's Note:**

> Equius's POV

Age always takes its toll.

It always aches to see her like this, all tired and ancient bones, barely moving every time toes touch the heated earth. It aches to see her cough, her ribs all shaking and clattering as if her breath is just as old as she is. Yet more than anything, it aches to see that smile still on her face – the one thing not yet weathered by time.

The nights pass slowly, the days even slower, but that’s okay. It’s a good thing, really – it means that there’s still time.

Some days, you spend all your time remembering.

She was once fire and spit, she was once the purest kind of perfection found only in the pages of books (or through the mind of an aging old man), she was your best friend, your mediator and most importantly your moirail. Her name was Nepeta Leijon.

She had once been the huntress, slaughtering magnificent beasts with tooth and fang and swallowing whole the raw flesh and covering the walls of her cave with pictures made from their blood. As disgusting as some of her practices where, she was still impressive what with a wild, quick spirit and with immeasurable strength far beyond her years.

That has changed now. She grows far more tired, far less vicious, far more content with just being. Yet her laughter, her pristine, happy laughter has never faltered. Her puns have grown more clever and more frequent, and her love of cats has never changed. She laughs with you now, laughs as you hold her hand protectively and help her walk across the long grass to her hive.

Somewhere, sometime down the line, you learned to laugh with her.

You rarely do so, after all – it took her sweeps to solicit that first giggle from you, but something about her really brings out the best in you. The sweetness in her smile and that childlike laugh of hers unfolds that serious part of your soul and lets joy slip through instead. In many ways, age has brought you true happiness.

Yet you are not old.

You can see the dust in her cheeks, the wrinkles scarring her face and the dullness that begins to invade her incredible yellow eyes. Yet you are still smooth skinned barring the bags beneath your eyes, you are still fit and able barring the slight limp in your leg and your slowly declining STRENGTH, in fact, you are perhaps only a little over middle aged. She, on the other hand, she grows tired.

Yet you still try to smile for her, still try to keep up this act that everything is going to be okay. For the most part, you genuinely believe it. You forget, until she breaks down coughing again. You forget, until she trips over the smallest step. You forget, until she lays down to sleep – and you worry that she’ll never wake up again.

You two have survived so many trials and conflicts. Lovers have appeared and then fluttered away. You held her when she wept on your shoulder and finally told you about the rogueblood, and she held you up when the girl of your dreams died in the arms of that damned mustardblood. You have both watched your friends fall apart, scattered across the universe and each plucked off the tree of life, one by one. It’s only nature’s way. You two have of course found replacements, but as you tell each other infrequently – it’s not the same. So you cherish one another’s hearts, and guard each other from falling apart – which is alright, since you still have each other.

You help her undress, you help her into her recupricoon. You stroke her hair, and she nuzzles against you gently. It’s just another day – and already you can see the sun beginning to rise in the distance. You’ll stay a while, and sleep in her guest room for tonight, but as you begin to leave – she calls to you.

“Equius.”

You look at her, a brow quirked, “Yes, Nepeta?”

“Meowrails are furever,” she states rather simply, her voice shuddering and croaky as she’s already starting to fall into sleep.

One of her many cats come to nuzzle against your leg. You smile, and say, “I know. You are the best moirail I could ask for. Thank you.”

Some things never change.

Sometimes, time can’t rot away everything.

You wished, more than anything, that that was true.


End file.
